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Only Hope
Rougly 60 years ago, a 16 year old girl sat typing on a typewriter. Her first job. She'd had to drop out of school and earn money for her family following the aftermath of World War II. The house that once stood next door to hers was gone. Mr. Jacobs had been about to fry an egg in the early hours of the morning when the bomb hit. He was found dead minutes later. The egg hadn't suffered a scratch.
About 25 years ago, a 16 year old girl sat down to take her first 'O' Level exam. But she couldn't concentrate. She was a wreck. Her mind felt as if it had been run over several times with a steam roller. All those hours she'd spent revising for the past few months, had gone to waste. She couldn't remember any of it. Just the weekend before, it had been her father's funeral.
Today, a 16 year old girl sat down to take her first 'GCSE' exam. She could concentrate. She was refreshed and ready. Her mind felt as if it was on peak form. She hadn't spent any hours revising but the past papers she'd gone over in class hadn't bothered her too much. She could remember most of it. She was lucky.
I like to give myself some perspective sometimes. I love you, Nan. I love you, Mom.
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